


Dirge Without Music

by Writcraft



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Dark, Dubious Consent, Fisting, Knifeplay, M/M, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-17
Updated: 2012-11-17
Packaged: 2017-11-18 21:26:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/565469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Writcraft/pseuds/Writcraft
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Albus is happy because everything seems to be coming together.  He is captain of the Quidditch team and his father is getting married again – then one night the bottom falls out of his world. Written for the NextGen Darkfest on Livejournal (2012)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dirge Without Music

_No guarantee my last goodbye is au revoir…  
I am your father, and I am sorry,  
But this is the way things are_

Albus whistled as he stepped through the Floo. He threw his Quidditch kit down on the sofa and stretched, pulling his body taut as he rubbed at a sore muscle on his shoulder for a moment. He loved the way he felt after playing a game of Quidditch – and winning. Although his whole body ached, he felt more alive somehow, happy and relaxed.

With a contented sigh, he moved to go and grab a beer from the fridge in the kitchen when he heard the familiar, cultured tones of Mr. Malfoy and a light sound, almost like a moan from the kitchen. Curiously, Albus moved towards the door and listened for a moment.

“Malfoy….” 

“No. Don’t say anything. Just let it happen.”

“But the kids…”

“Are out, and I doubt they would care in any event. It’s been a long time, Potter. She left a long time ago. Don’t you think it’s time you let yourself _live_ again?”

“But…”

Albus heard a small laugh from the kitchen and another word of protest from his father, before there was silence.

Mr. Malfoy had been around rather a lot, lately, not that Albus minded. More often than not his father could be found spending the evenings in the kitchen with Mr. Malfoy, laughing over something as they threw insults at one another, reminiscing about the past.

Albus watched his dad sometimes when he walked past the kitchen and looked in the open door. He had seen the pictures of the famous Harry Potter as a teenager; photos the _Prophet_ still used on birthdays or anniversaries of the war. When he was with Mr. Malfoy he looked like that again – younger and animated.

It was usually the same routine - Albus would open the door and Mr. Malfoy would push past, looking beyond him to the kitchen door and ruffling his hair lightly.

_“Is your father about, or is he somewhere trying to get himself killed?”_

_“He’s around, he’s in the kitchen.”_

_“Always eating – he should be the size of a house not…well, not as he is.”_

_Albus laughed and nodded, “Yeah, good job he keeps active.”_

_“Quite. Potter?! I need to speak with you. Once again you have managed to cock absolutely everything up.”_

_Albus always wondered why Mr. Malfoy felt the need to bring expensive wine as punishment for whatever awful thing his father had done. He thought his dad must be pretty crappy at his job because Mr. Malfoy did come round shouting the place down rather a lot. Sometimes Albus would stand in the doorway to the kitchen while his father would turn around and glare in a way Albus never saw him glare at anybody else._

_“Malfoy – I don’t know what you’re talking about and why the hell have you bought _wine_?”_

_“Because you drive me to drink, Potter – do you have a glass?”_

_“You’re so bloody annoying I could just…” Albus watched his father move to the cupboard to retrieve two glasses and left them to it with a laugh._

It always ended the same way, Mr. Malfoy and his father would finish the bottle of wine and talk about anything but work, throwing insults at each other. The insults and arguments would descend into laughter sometime around the second half of the bottle. 

It had been going on for months. 

“Dad?” Albus tentatively pushed open the door to the kitchen.

“ _Fuck!_ Albus, I…it’s not what it looks like…oh bloody _hell._ ”

Albus felt his eyes widen as his father pulled back from Mr. Malfoy and turned to the door. His hair looked messier than usual and his lips were swollen and well kissed, his shirt untucked, the collar open. Mr. Malfoy settled back in his chair, his legs stretched out in front of him and crossed at the ankle, his arm resting casually on the back of Al’s father’s chair and his lips pulled into a slow, steady, smirk as he reached out for his wine, taking a careful sip.

“Honestly, Potter. I think it’s quite clear it is _exactly_ what it looks like,” Albus watched Mr. Malfoy give his father a heated look as he sipped his wine. “You look thoroughly debauched.”

“Malfoy!”

“Hm?”

Albus chuckled and walked towards them, feeling like he was intruding on a very private moment and keen to leave them alone as soon as possible. He stooped down by his father and gave him a quick hug, noticing he smelled like Mr. Malfoy’s expensive cologne and wondered how long they had been kissing for.

“S’alright, Dad. I’m happy for you. Mum left a long time ago, she’s remarried. You deserve a bit of happiness,” Albus looked to Draco and extended his hand for shaking, “Look after him, Mr. Malfoy. He’s pretty important to us all.”

“Draco is fine, Albus. I think we can dispense with formalities.” Mr. Malfoy – Draco – took Albus’ hand in his own and shook it, firmly. Albus moved away from them both and turned to leave the kitchen.

“Did you win?”

“What?” Albus turned to look at his father, noticing Draco had dropped his hand under the table to his father’s leg and had to mask his own grin at the sight of his father looking so distinctly uncomfortable.

“The Quidditch match. Did you win?”

“Oh. Yeah, it was brilliant,” Albus looked at Draco and winked at him and then laughed softly at his father, “I’ll tell you about it tomorrow, Dad. I think you have other stuff to do this evening.”

“He certainly does.” 

Albus left the kitchen, closing the door behind him and chuckling at Draco’s innuendo. He heard his father let out a deep groan.

“Malfoy, you’re such a brat. Gods, that was embarrassing. Honestly, I don’t know why I-”

“Do shut up, Potter.” 

Albus pulled a face as he heard a different sort of moan and quickly moved upstairs shouting behind him, “Don’t forget silencing charms – and maybe ward the door.” With a grin he hopped up the stairs two at a time and shut the door to his room, humming happily at the thought of the look on his father’s face.

OooooOOooooO

__  
When I am dead, my dearest,  
Sing no sad songs for me;  
Plant thou no roses at my head  
Nor shady cypress tree.  
Be the green grass above me  
With showers and dew-drops wet;  
And if thou wilt, remember  
And if thou wilt, forget.   


The next morning, Albus tugged on his jeans and a t-shirt and tried to do something with his hair, cursing the fact that he had inherited that particular nightmare from his father. With a scowl he ruffled it and pulled a face in the mirror, giving up. He passed his father’s room on his way downstairs, seeing the door wide open and the bed made and wondered whether his father and Draco had even made it upstairs, hoping his father hadn’t done something stupid like send Draco home out of a misplaced concern for his children.

Albus opened the door to the kitchen to see his father waiting for him with a pot of tea ready, Draco keeping a respectful distance and pottering at the sink as James munched on some toast, rolling his eyes at Albus and Lily giggled, looking over at Draco by the sink and then back at Albus. 

“You’re up.”

“Yep, just in time for breakfast by the looks of things.” Albus settled himself down into a seat opposite his father and winked at him, as he pulled a face at James and they shared laugh at the way their father was acting, flushed and nervous.

“Well, now we’re all here, there’s something I need to tell you all…”

Albus smiled around his mouthful of toast, watching his father fiddling with his mug of tea and frowning into it while Draco continued to move around the kitchen, letting out a soft snort.

“You’re shagging Mr. Malfoy, Dad. It’s fine – we expected it to be honest, you two aren’t very subtle.”

Albus laughed as James spoke up and heard Lily giggle as Draco joined in with a rich, deep, laugh and his father looked at them all as if they had gone mad, a furious blush rising to his cheeks.

“James! That’s not…”

“Oh give it up, Potter. Clearly it has been obvious to everyone but you for quite some time that you’re madly in love with me.” 

Draco laughed again and joined them all at the table where he sat down next to Al’s father and rested his arm over the back of his chair again. He dropped his hand to squeeze Harry’s shoulder briefly. “Now, can we have some breakfast and change the subject?”

“But…don’t you mind?”

“Nope, it’s cool,” Albus shrugged at his father.

“I think it’s romantic – going on dangerous stakeouts and trying to save the world together.” Lily sighed and looked dreamily at Draco. “All of those years of being enemies and then, thrown together by unexpected circumstances, you fall in love.”

“Seriously, Lils – you really need to stop reading those trashy romance novels of yours.”

“Shut up, James. I hate you. Besides, I saw you reading one the other day.”

“I was _not._ ”

“Yes you were, _and_ you have Dominque’s name scribbled all over that notebook in your room. You do know Teddy is going to _kill_ you?”

James let out a deep growl and glared at Lily, “You’re such a little snitch, Lils. What were you doing in my room anyway? It’s private - No entry. I have a sign and everything. Dad, this is why we need locks on the doors, I told you that before. Can I have a lock on the door, Dad, please?”

Albus laughed as the table descended into chaos and looked at his father. He saw him rake a hand through his hair with a fond grimace as he looked across at Draco with a rueful shrug, spreading his hands out in a gesture of defeat. Albus watched as Draco raised his hand from the chair and felt his breath catch as he saw it drop lightly into his father’s hair, smoothing it down a little and then tangling there, playing with it lightly.

“I told you it would be fine, Potter.”

“You did,” Albus thought his father looked a bit dazed as if he didn’t quite believe it. 

“Merlin, your hair is completely beyond redemption, isn’t it?” Albus laughed softly thinking of his own struggles as Draco frowned at his father’s hair, trying to pat it down and then giving up.

“I’m afraid so.” 

“I suppose I shall have to learn to tolerate it.”

“Yes. It looks like you will.”

Albus watched as Draco leaned forward and captured his father’s lips in a soft kiss while they thought no one was watching. He saw the way his father reached his arms up around Draco’s neck and the smiles the two exchanged and felt as if he was intruding on something intensely private.

“I love you, you poncy git.”

“Of course you do.”

Albus watched as the two men looked at each other for a long time, and then turned back to his toast, giving them the privacy of their moment as a happy grin tugged at his lips. After years of seeing his father pretending not to be miserable it seemed as though everything, finally, was falling into place.

OooooOOooooO

_And you, my father, there on the sad height,_  
Curse, bless me now with your fierce tears, I pray.  
Do not go gentle into that good night.  
Rage, rage against the dying of the light 

“You can’t be serious, Malfoy? There’s no way I’m wearing these.”

Albus laughed as his father held up some expensive dress robes in Slytherin green, with silver snakes embroidered on the sleeve. Draco watched his father with amusement, a slow smirk stretced across his face and Albus fought back a blush as he saw the way Draco licked his lips, his eyes trailing over his father’s body until they finally met his eyes. Sometimes those two shouldn’t be allowed out in public. If they weren’t arguing, they were gazing at each other, their eyes filled with heated promise. Not to mention all the snogging. Albus felt his face heat again at the thought of it. 

Albus had seen them once, through the crack of the door. He didn’t want to watch, he knew he shouldn’t but he couldn’t tear his eyes away. Draco had his father on his back and was doing something with his hand that Albus couldn’t see but which was drawing raw, animalistic sounds from his father.

_“It hurts…it hurts.”_

_“I know…you’re doing so well, Harry…just a little more, shift a bit…that’s it…”_

_“Oh gods…”_

_“There…” Draco’s voice was rough and thick with emotion. “How does it feel?”_

_“Full…fucking hell, Draco…” Albus was sure he heard his father whimper as he could see the slow movements of Draco’s arm, his father’s legs hitched and parted wide as he planted his feet on the bed and arched up a little._

_“You’re so beautiful like this.”_

_“I don’t think so.” Harry’s voice was choked and Albus wondered what was happening to make his dad sound like that._

_“You’re always beautiful to me.”_

_“Draco?”_

_“Harry….”_

_“Kiss me, for fucks sake.”_

_Draco slid his other hand between them and then his father was making more sounds, muffled by kisses._

_“Good?”_

_“Yes…dammit, I’m going to…”_

_“Yes, come for me, Harry.”_

“I like you in green.”

Albus was snapped out of his reverie and hoped no one noticed the blush he could feel heat his cheeks in the dim light of the room.

“It’s our bonding ceremony, I’m not going to stand up in front of everyone dressed like a Slytherin - they will think you've corrupted me.” Albus watched as his father grinned at Draco. “I don’t see you offering to wear burgundy and gold.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Potter – my complexion hardly suits Gryffindor colours.”

Albus smiled into his tea as his father snorted and put the robes down before flopping into a seat next to Draco and sliding his hand into his hair, looking at him with the fond sort of smile his father always bestowed on Draco.

“You have me wrapped around your little finger.”

“I know.” Draco preened at this, but laughed and leaned forward for a kiss. “You would be lost without me, Potter.”

“Isn’t that the truth.” Albus watched as his father scooted closer to Draco in his seat, kissing him softly before pulling away momentarily and brushing his thumb over Draco’s cheek. “Ready for bed, love?”

“Always,” Draco smiled, a wide beaming smile, back at his father. Albus watched as they clasped their hands together, playing with one another’s’ fingers and staring as if there was no one else in the world but them. When his father and Draco got like this it was as if they lost themselves in a private moment, the intensity of emotion palpable in the air around them.

“Good grief, can’t you two put one another down for a moment?” Albus turned to see Scorpius standing in the doorway, looking at the scene in the kitchen with a grimace. The humour in his eyes and his rueful sort of smile made it clear that Scorpius was only teasing. 

Albus watched as his father pulled back from Draco a little and stood, their hands still clasped together tightly as he tugged gently to pull Draco up to his feet and wrapped an arm around his waist before he brushed his cheek against Draco’s hair with a soft smile. Albus finished his tea and continued to watch them. He noticed the way Draco moved closer to his father and tilted his head towards him, Draco’s arm wrapped around Al’s father’s waist. He watched Draco whisper something which caused his father to flush lightly and clear his throat, his voice a little gruff.

“Right. We’ll leave you to it then.” 

Albus laughed and ducked out of the way as his father ruffled his hair and then practically tugged Draco from the room. He heard the hurried footfalls on the stairs, the sound of laughter and the loud slam of a bedroom door. Then there was nothing.

“Well at least one of them remembered silencing charms this time.” Scorpius sat opposite Albus and reached out for the teapot pouring himself a mug of tea before he pushed the pot across to Albus.

“I suppose we should be happy for them, they’re just making up for lost time.”

“Well, I would prefer it if they did so a little less enthusiastically sometimes.” Scorpius sipped his tea, watching Albus, “You seem deep in thought.”

“I guess I am, just thinking about mum, about the bonding and everything. I’m glad they’re happy.”

“Me too -took them long enough. I can’t really imagine being in love with someone for that long and not being able to have them.”

“Me neither.”   
One evening when Mr. Malfoy had been working late, Al had sat down with his father over supper and had heard the story about his father’s history with Mr. Malfoy. He had never realised there was _that_ in his father’s past. He had always assumed that after the war his mother and father had settled quickly into a relationship together and that had been that. Albus had felt his eyes widen as his father told him about secret meetings and furtive liaisons under the cover of darkness and invisibility, as he met Draco in the Room of Requirement, the Astronomy Tower or one of the empty classrooms – the story of a coupling which appeared to have been shrouded in secrets and lies. 

Albus knew he was getting the edited version of the story, but something in the way his father talked, the way his eyes went hazy and a small smile full of secrets tugged at his lips, seemed to imply there was so much more being left unsaid. He suspected from the story and their ages that Draco had been his father’s first in everything and wondered about that sometimes, feeling as if his image of his mother and father had shifted immeasurably since that night spent talking with his father. 

Albus remembered asking about his first day at school when his mother and father had come to the train station, divorced but putting on a united front, to see Albus off on the Hogwarts Express.

_“You saw him that day? Mr. Malfoy – Draco, I mean.”_

_“Yes.” His father nodded, just once, a small frown on his face as he looked at his hands and then sipped his tea with a grimace, “It was the first time I had seen him since…since it ended. He took my breath away.” Albus watched as his father murmured quietly and looked at his mug, wondering If he had meant to say the last bit out loud._

_“What…what happened?”_

_“When the train left I said goodbye to Gin – your mum, I mean – and went to get a coffee. He came in, by himself, without Astoria and he sat next to me.” His father had laughed without much humour. “We sat there, in silence for hours.”_

_“Then what?”_

_“Then we left, without a word, and walked outside. We kissed until the sun went down.”_

_Albus had watched his father, lost in thought, a strange sort of smile playing around his lips as he remembered._

_“And?”_

_“And Draco started working at the Ministry a month or two later and we were assigned to work together.” Al had watched his father shrug and laugh. “I suppose the rest is history.”_

_“Yes…history.” Albus wasn’t sure he wanted the answer to the question but he asked anyway. “You have been in love with him for a long time, then?”_

_Harry paused and then nodded as he avoided Al’s eyes, speaking in a low murmur._

_“I have been in love with Draco for nearly all of my life.”_

“Right, I’m off to bed.” Albus shook himself, stood and nodded at Scorpius. He made his way slowly up the stairs and glanced at the door to his father’s room with a grin and a shake of his head at the Slytherin tie on the door handle. Draco always did that, some joke from their schooldays. Albus didn’t think he could remember a night when the tie didn’t adorn the door.

He went into his own room after he had brushed his teeth and washed his face and pulled on his pyjamas, climbing into bed. 

He soon drifted off into a peaceful sleep and smiled as his dreams filled with weddings and stolen kisses.

OooooOOooooO

_Because I could not stop for Death, he kindly stopped for me  
The carriage held but just ourselves and Immortality_

It was three in the morning when the world stopped turning.

“Let me see, move, Draco.” 

Albus heard voices outside his door and looked at the clock by his bedside table, wondering what on earth people were doing up at this hour. He thought he could hear James who sounded frantic and the sound of Lily crying. As Albus stood and tugged on his pyjamas, he wondered where his father was and why he couldn’t hear his voice amongst all the kerfuffle. He couldn’t hear Draco at all, although he heard James say his name again, insistent, as if he was urging Draco to do something.

“Oh….Merlin, _no_ …” 

Albus stood and opened his door to see James disappear into his father’s room, while Draco leaned against the wall as if he couldn’t stand upright without something to support him. Albus looked at Draco and felt his stomach turn, wanting to retch at the sight. He had never seen Draco like this before. His usually pale features seemed almost translucent, his eyes wild and his lips twisted into a fierce, ugly grimace of pain.

“What’s going on? Why is everyone up – is dad okay?” Albus padded towards the room, hearing the beat of his heart which pounded in his ears. He looked into the room, to see James crouching over his father who appeared to be sleeping peacefully. “James?”

James looked up at Albus, his face twisted and streaked with tears, “He’s dead. Dad’s dead.”

“He can’t be…he was just…he was going to get bonded, he can’t be dead…” Albus trailed off and looked outside the room. Draco slid down the wall as his legs gave way beneath him.

“Albus, please. Look after Lily, don’t come in here.”

“He’s not…you’re lying….” Albus looked at the shape of the body, still in the bed and wanted to go in and ruffle his father’s hair and clamber onto the edge of the bed with him like he used to do when he was a kid.

_“Okay, Albert?”_

_“It’s Albus, Dad. Stop it, you’re daft.”_

_“Oh…Albus is it? Well silly me.”_

_“Can you tell me a story? Tell me about the Hippogriff again – tell me what it was like when you were flying over Hogwarts.”_

_Harry tugged Albus up to his side and ruffled his hair, placing a gentle kiss on his head and chuckling softly, holding him tight and bouncing him around until Al giggled and hugged him close._

_“Love you, Dad.”_

_“Love you too, Albert. Now…about that Hippogriff…”_

Albus blinked at James a few times, looking at his father’s body, still on the bed. He took in the strange look on James’ face and turned on his heel. He moved quickly towards the bathroom and slammed the door behind him, his hands splayed out on the sink as he retched until his stomach was empty.

After a long moment he switched on the tap and watched the water drain down the sink. He splashed some water on his face and looked up, staring at himself in the mirror as he looked deep into his father’s eyes.

Outside the bathroom he heard sobbing and the sound of hushed voices as he sank to his knees and put his head in his hands trying to breathe.

Just beyond the door, Draco howled.

OooooOOooooO

_The Curfew tolls the knell of parting day,_  
The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea,  
The ploughman homeward plods his weary way,  
And leaves the world to darkness and to me 

Albus scratched his leg as he shuffled on the hard wooden pew, his suit feeling itchy and uncomfortable. Massive heart failure, the doctors had said when they had come to take the body away. Albus remembered being surprised that something so very Muggle had claimed his father’s life in the end, after everything.

During the service Albus watched Draco, who shouldered the coffin with Albus, James, Ron, Teddy and Seamus. He wondered how Draco kept his face so carefully controlled, an implacable mask except for his lips which had twisted into a grimace. When they sat, Lily sobbed beside them as family, friends and acquaintances shook his hand with sweaty palms, telling him they were sorry for his loss. 

Albus wanted to lash out at the strangers who called his father a hero, telling him about his father's bravery during the war as if he didn't already know. He stopped himself from doing so out of respect for his father and smiled a brittle smile as he thanked them quietly.

Draco didn't say a word. He stared forward, completely silent, his fingers clenched into white-knuckled fists until they were called upon to stand again and shoulder the weight of the coffin. Albus wondered how it could feel so heavy with six of them carrying his father on their shoulders and watched his feet as they left the church, determined not to trip or do something incredibly stupid. He had the strangest desire to laugh and wondered if he wasn't going a little bit insane.

They took his father to the cemetery in a hearse - sitting behind the vehicle in a long black car, silent but for the sound of James crying. Albus watched his brother as he put his head in his hands and looked at his shoulders shaking. He had never seen James cry before. It wasn't the sort of thing James did. Albus wondered if he should be crying too, but couldn't seem to squeeze the tears out. He closed his eyes instead, because watching James was starting to frighten him. 

Albus stood as the coffin was lowered into the earth and clutched on tightly to James and Lily who flanked him on either side. His wool coat felt itchy and uncomfortable. He was more used to ripped jeans and tight t-shirts and the shirt buttoned up around his neck felt as if it was strangling him. He loosened the tie a little and watched the coffin, the gesture not doing anything to relieve the tightness in his throat.

His shoulder ached from carrying his father and he rubbed at it absentmindedly, looking at the assembled mourners. 

Black coats, black umbrellas, beneath the boughs of a large oak, casting shadows around the grave. The grey sky spat out rain and Albus wondered if the heavens were crying for his dad. 

"Ashes to ashes, dust to dust..."

"No. No." Albus looked up to see Draco who was shaking his head and speaking as if he didn't know people could hear him - could see him. 

Albus watched as Draco's eyes followed the coffin into the earth. Scorpius stood at Draco's side and wrapped an arm around him as he spoke.

"Father..."

Draco snapped his head back towards Scorpius and nodded, once, setting his face again. Albus could see that Scorpius was the only thing which kept Draco on his feet as the hard wood of the coffin thudded against the ground and a fistful of dirt hit the shiny oak surface, obscuring part of his father's name on the gold plaque screwed onto the top of the coffin. 

Albus remembered Draco saying once he would follow his father anywhere and could see from the way Scorpius clung on to his father that Draco wanted to follow Harry into his grave.

They had dressed his father in the robes he was to wear to his bonding ceremony - the ones he had complained about the night he died. 

Albus hoped he wouldn't mind.

OooooOOooooO

_Rose leaves, when the rose is dead,_  
Are heap'd for the beloved's bed;  
And so thy thoughts when thou are gone,  
Love itself shall slumber on 

Albus lay on his bed, listening to the sound of the song he had played on repeat since the funeral. His father’s favourite song, the one he always listened to when Draco became a permanent fixture in their home.

“He liked that song.”

“I know.”

“I hated it.”

“You did?” Albus looked curiously at Draco, “Why were you always humming it then?”

“Because it was ours,” Draco laughed without humour and sighed, looking down at his legs and picking some invisible lint from his wool trousers.

“Oh. I see,” Albus looked at the stereo with a frown and then laughed too, “I don’t like it either. I play it because he liked it.”

“Put on something else.” Draco’s voice was gruff and Albus looked, to see his eyes were dark and empty. He could smell the Firewhiskey in the room from Draco’s breath and nodded, not wanting to upset him further. He put on something neutral, something he wouldn’t associate with his father and something Draco likely wouldn’t know. They sat together for a long time, listening to music without saying a word.

“How are you?” Albus knew it was a stupid question but the silence between them was deafening and he felt he had to say something.

“I can’t…there is nothing left, without him,” Draco turned to Albus and he shivered at the hollow, dead look in Draco’s eyes, “You look awfully like him, you know. The eyes – the horrible hair…” Draco paused and reached a hand into Albus’ hair, toying with it the way Albus has seen him do to his father, that first morning in the kitchen. Despite himself, he leaned into the touch, finding some comfort from it.

“Yeah, everyone says that.”

Albus shifted nervously on the bed, because Draco had moved closer to him, close enough that Albus could smell the whiskey on his breath. He hitched a breath when he heard his bedroom door slam as Draco flicked his hand and continued to look at Albus with the same dead stare.

He felt his breath catch as Draco’s thigh connected with his own, hard and warm and then he felt dry lips against his mouth, the slide of a tongue into his mouth as his lips parted, the taste of Firewhisky strong between them. Albus clutched onto Draco and returned the kiss, feeling this was wrong, awfully wrong, but needing to feel something other than the cold, sick, feeling he had felt since his father died. They kissed for a long time before Albus felt his shirt tugged over his head and pulled back, looking at Draco who fixed him with a dark stare.

“Strip. Lie on the bed, face first.”

Albus didn’t want to, didn’t want to do this like this, his first time tainted with death, with Draco smelling like whiskey and not even wanting to look at Albus. He stood nonetheless, on shaky legs, and moved to unbuckle his jeans, his cock only half hard as he stripped and then lay on his small, single, bed, his face in the pillow and listened while Draco moved behind him.

As Draco moved inside him, stretching him painfully, Albus could smell the cigarettes, peaty alcohol and faint scent of sweat in the air as he shivered under the hot breath on his neck. He bit down on his bottom lip, tasting the coppery flavour of his own blood, as Draco’s movements became quicker above him. He heard grunts and finally a desperate sounding growl as he clenched his hands into the sheets and he felt wet warmth fill him. 

He lay very still, his face in the pillows as the harsh breathing above him began to steady.

"Harry..."

Albus buried his face deeper into the pillow which felt damp from his own tears. He didn't move for a long time after Draco left.

OooooOOooooO

_Father, this thick air is murderous  
I would breathe water_

“Your father liked to play with knives, you know.”

Albus blinked awake, his eyes sore and full of sleep as he saw the shadow of Draco in the doorway to his room and sat up in bed, his throat dry.

“I didn’t know.”

Draco moved towards Albus and he saw cold metal shining in the light from the moon.

“Can I…?”

“Yes…”

Albus felt he would give Draco anything he wanted in that moment, although the touch of the cold metal on his skin made his body tremble. He wondered if it would hurt. He wondered if his father liked to be hurt. He wondered if the blade would make him feel something more than a wretched, numb sort of pain which left him aching and lost.

“It’s okay, no one else is home.”

Albus nodded because he didn’t trust himself to speak and stood to take off his clothes before he settled on the bed, face first. He knew the routine by now.

“I’m ready.”

“No. On your back.”

Albus turned and wondered if this time Draco might see _him_ and raised his hands over his head.

As the knife slid over his nipple and cut through it like butter he opened his mouth and screamed into the darkness.

“Fuck!”

“It hurts, doesn’t it? Your father liked it to hurt.”

Albus opened his eyes to see Draco and saw in that one moment Draco never really saw Albus at all when he was like this, watching his eyes, glazed and full of nothing.

“It….yes, it hurts.”

“Doesn’t it?”

Draco looked at Albus and nodded his agreement, his stare still dark and cold and then he raised his knife again to cut a deep slash which made Albus scream as his back snapped and he squeezed his eyes tight shut.

“More than anything has ever hurt before.”

The knife came down again and Draco hummed his agreement.

OooooOOooooO

_Down, down, down into the darkness of the grave_  
Gently they go, the beautiful, the tender, the kind;  
Quietly they go, the intelligent, the witty, the brave.  
I know. But I do not approve. And I am not resigned 

“I wondered if you wanted some tea.”

Albus stood tentatively at the door to his father’s room, looking in on Draco who was lying on the bed and starting at the ceiling. They hadn’t really spoken to one another since Draco had cut deep scars into Al’s body. 

Albus shuffled in his place, wondering why Draco wasn’t answering him and tentatively took another step forward.

“I don’t…it doesn’t matter, what happened the other night. I understand…”

Al moved to the bed and sat on it, just looking at his hands. 

Draco didn’t reply. He didn’t even move.

After a long period of silence, Albus forced himself to look across at Draco. He took in the slightly awkward position of his limbs and his glassy eyes and felt his body begin to tremble.

“Mister Malfoy? D-Draco?”

Albus looked down at the wand resting by the side of the bed and then at Draco’s still body. He didn’t need to cast Priori Incantatem to prove that Draco had died at his own hand. With a grimace he snapped the wand over his leg, the two halves dangling uselessly, held together by a splinter of wood. 

He looked at Draco’s body for a long time before he noticed a folded piece of parchment next to the bed. He tried to ignore the fact his hand was shaking as he picked it up and opened it. Two words. Two useless, pointless words.

“I’m sorry.”

Albus kissed Draco softly, smoothing his hair from his eyes.

His lips were firm and cold.

“I forgive you.”

_~Fin~_


End file.
